By Major E. W. Cave, of Houston.

Air—“I’m Afloat.”

Flag of the Southland! Flag of the free!
’Ere thy sons will be slaves, they will perish with thee!
Thy new-risen star shall light Liberty on,
’Till the hosts of the tyrant are scatter’d and gone!
Whether victory sits on the Southern plumes,
Or disaster doth come in some hour of gloom,
Freedom’s hosts will still rally where’er thou shalt be,
O flag of the Southland! flag of the free!

Flag of the Southland! thy glory has been
To be baptized in blood ’midst the great battle’s din,
From Manassas’ red plains, o’er the mountains steep,
Thy stars kept their vigils, where Washington sleeps,
And the breezes of Vernon have borne on the shout
Of thy triumphant sons as the foes took the rout;
Valor’s trio of genius—Beauregard, Johnston and Lee!
Guards the flag of the Southland—flag of the free!

The foe is upon us, but our flag it is there!
We have borne it in triumph—its defeat we can share;
Tho’ our cities be burned, tho’ our thousands be slain,
’Mid the flames of our altars we’ll fight him again;
And while there’s a spot where a patriot band
May show to the foe a desperate stand,
Southern hearts will defy him, their flag will still be
The flag of the Southland—the flag of the free!

In the hour of gloom now thy valorous sons show,
That freemen can die, but ne’er yield to the foe!
But our Shiloh has come—see the enemy flee!
His sceptre has sunk ’neath the swift Tennessee—
And the Southern heart and the Southern hand,
From classic Potomac to bold Rio Grande,
Still push on to battle, when floating they see
The flag of the Southland—the flag of the free!